


Roses and Flames

by perdistempon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Multiple Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a bit angst at one point, some underage sexy action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdistempon/pseuds/perdistempon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Margaery had soft lips and sweet words. She had been a friend, then a lover. She was everything Sansa had dreamed of in a soulmate.</p><p>Daenerys's lips looked like they were on fire and her words were cold and unyielding. She was an enemy, another queen who wanted the North for herself. She was totally unexpected, someone Sansa had never dreamed of meeting.</p><p>It seemed odd that they were both her soulmates."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first try at multi-chapter fanfiction. I hope you all enjoy!

Sansa felt a searing pain on her ankle as she tried to fall asleep. It was a burning sensation, and she gasped as realization flew over her. Her soulmate mark was coming in!

Sansa immediately threw back the covers and pulled her leg out, trailing her finger over where she felt pain. She wished she had a candle so she could see, but her parents didn't let her keep one in her room. The rule had never bothered her more than it did now.

It took what felt like hours for Sansa to fall asleep. When she woke up to the rising sun, she didn't remember the events of the previous night. After a few minutes, the memory hit her.

Sansa smiled with glee as she jumped out of bed and ran over to her window. She put her foot on the windowsill and in the dim light, finally got a good look at her mark.

It was as black as ink. It started as a dot on the bony part of her ankle, and arms came out of it and swirled around like a design of the sun. There was a circle surrounding the main part. It was breathtakingly beautiful to Sansa.

She squealed with delight. She loved it. _Mother must see it_ , she thought suddenly, _and father too_. Sansa, for once in her life impatient, grabbed a cloak from her wardrobe and put it on with fumbling hands. She didn't even bother to put on shoes before she left, though she knew that it was improper to run around without shoes on.

Sansa set off for her parent's room, copper hair flying behind her as she practically ran. She then noted the guards posted outside their room with a bit of disappointment and frustration. All the same, Sansa wouldn't let them deter her and she approached them with as much dignity as she could muster.

"I'd like to see my mother and father," she told them, clutching her cloak around her like a lifeline. They exchanged a look she couldn't figure out before the one on the right crouched down to her height and spoke.

"Lord and Lady Stark are sleeping. I'm sure whatever news you have can wait until later this morning," he told her. "Now, come. I'll escort you back to your chambers."

Sansa shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving until I see my parents." The one on the right looked exasperated, but the other one looked amused. She frowned, her little eyebrows furrowing. How could they be acting so _stupid_ when her soulmate mark had come in the night before? Everything was supposed to be perfect. "It's _important_."

The one on the right stood up and gave her a curious look. "I'll see what I can do," he said at last and Sansa's frown turned into a smile of triumph.

The remaining guard stared down at her in amusement when the other left. Sansa glared at him until he stopped, but she thought she saw him sneak a few looks when she was looking elsewhere. The guard returned after a few minutes with an impassive look on his face.

"Lord and Lady Stark will see you now," he announced and Sansa's smile widened.

"Thank you," she responded, remembering her manners as she skipped into her parents' room. Her parents were sitting up in bed when she walked in, both looking exhausted. Sansa momentarily felt bad for waking them, but it passed when she pictured their faces at her news.

"Father, mother," Sansa greeted, nodding at each in turn. "I have _great_ news."

"And what news would that be?" Her father asked groggily.

Sansa didn't answer. She jumped onto their bed and in between them, then pulled up the hem of her nightgown and held out her leg for them to see her mark.

From the way her leg was positioned, her mother saw it first. "Oh, Sansa," she gasped and Sansa smiled gleefully.

"Isn't it pretty?" She inquired as she showed her father. "I think it's pretty."

"It is," her father agreed as he stared at it. "But, you're only nine. That's far too young."

Sansa shook her head. "Not always. Sometimes, the younger soulmate gets their mark when the older one does," she informed him. Sansa loved the concept of soulmates and considered herself an expert on the subject.

"I know, but still. It's so rare," he commented. Sansa frowned and pulled her leg back.

"You're not happy," she observed with a pout.

"Of course we're happy," her mother cut in. "We're absolutely ecstatic."

Sansa's smile returned as she wiggled her way in between them and sat down. "Do you think my soulmate is the lord of a castle?" Sansa asked them. "I know soulmates aren't always in the same social class, but do you think mine is?"

Catelyn pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Maybe, love," she answered.

"Will you let me marry him if he is?" Sansa inquired hopefully, images of handsome lords courting her flying through her head.

"If you find your soulmate, you can marry him. I promise," her father assured her and

Sansa squealed with delight. She spent the rest of the morning in bed with her parents, dreaming of her soulmate.

Four years later, when Sansa became betrothed to the prince, she knew he wasn't her soulmate. He wasn't the right age, so he couldn't be. She was willing to overlook it, though, because she thought they were in love. She treated it like it was inconsequential.

It was her first mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, as you can probably tell from the second-to-last paragraph, I've set it a little later than in canon, so that Sansa goes to King's Landing when she's thirteen instead of eleven. you'll see why I did this in the next chapter, but I just wanted to let you know that this takes place in book verse, and not show verse. I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will be up soon :)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support on the last chapter! It means a lot. Quick note in case you missed it last chapter: I aged Sansa up by two years, so she's 15 in this chapter.

King's Landing turned out to be a nightmare, not the dream Sansa had imagined.

Her first indication should have been that Joffrey's soulmate mark didn't match hers. She had been willing to push it aside because she thought she loved him and he loved her. It was all an act, though, which she discovered the day her father died.

Joffrey tormented Sansa, and he nearly broke her. Sansa despised him for it, but she despised herself even more for deluding herself into thinking that they were in love.

Queen Cersei wasn't any better. She was bitter, very, very bitter. Everyone said it was because her soulmate mark didn't match that of her lover's. Some others whispered that she believed her soulmate was Prince Rhaegar and that she never forgave Robert for killing him. The why didn't matter to Sansa, though. All that mattered was that Queen Cersei was awful and bitter to her.

A year after her tormenting started, Margaery Tyrell came and offered a small escape from Sansa's everyday horrors. She seemed to be a real friend in a sea of enemies. They talked all the time, of songs and fashion and stories. Sansa found something she thought she had lost forever in Margaery. 

One time while they were out hawking alone, a little after Sansa's fifteenth name day, Margaery urged Sansa to show her her soulmate mark. "Come on, you must have one," she insisted.

Shyly, Sansa had taken off her boot and drew her dress back, showing Margaery the mark. When she saw it, she gasped and reached out, going over the pattern with her fingers.

"Sansa," Margaery whispered.

Sansa blushed. "Do you like it?" She asked her new friend hopefully.

Margaery looked up into her eyes and smiled brightly. "It's the same as mine," she told Sansa, taking her hand.

Sansa was shocked. Her soulmate was a _girl_. Same-sex soulmates weren't unheard of, of course (in fact, Margaery's brother Loras's soulmate had been Renly Baratheon), but Sansa had never ventured to think _her_ soulmate would be another woman.

It did make sense when she thought about it, though. Sansa had always loved Margaery's soft skin and brown eyes, had adored her ringlets and personality. She had never put it up to attraction, but it wasn't that far off upon consideration.

"What do we do now?" Sansa asked softly, enamored by Margaery's smile.

There was a pause, and then Margaery answered with a question of her own. "Sansa, how would you like to be my bedwarmer tonight?"

Sansa blushed and nodded rapidly, catching her meaning. "I should like it very much," she replied.

That night, Margaery had kissed her for the first time. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hand cradled Sansa's cheek, and when her tongue prodded in between her lips, Sansa opened them gladly.

Margaery kissed her for some time more, but they had to break for air eventually. When they did, she began to press tiny kisses down her neck and to the top of her shift. Margaery had pulled back and grabbed the hem of it. She bunched it up carefully and slowly drew it over Sansa's head, making sure to brush against her stomach.

Margaery was acting confident, like this was easy for her. It all made Sansa nervous, and she shivered as the shift passed over her head.

Margaery looked down at her lovingly. "Are you sure you want this Sansa? We don't have to rush this if you want to wait."

Sansa rapidly shook her head. "I do. It's just... all of this is so... new," she whispered. Margaery smiled and reached down, caressing Sansa's cheek. Her touch was soft and warm.

"I know, my love. I remember my first time. I promise, I'll do everything I can to make it lovely," Margaery assured her. She kissed her again, but this was a much more chaste kiss. Her tongue didn't enter her mouth. It was simply Margaery's lips against Sansa's, and it was sensual in a way Sansa couldn't quite peg down.

"It's already lovely because it's with you," Sansa said softly when they broke apart. Margaery smiled at her, and it was the most genuine smile she'd seen since before her father had died.

"You're too sweet," Margaery declared and then she continued with her kissing ventures. After a detour on her breasts, she went south and south until she was kissing Sansa in a way she had never dreamed of.

Sansa quickly became Margaery's favorite bedwarmer. Some nights Margaery kissed Sansa like she did on the first night, other times she used her fingers, and on certain nights she instructed Sansa in doing the same (though it was clear she much preferred making her lover moan). Other nights they did nothing at all but talk while Margaery held Sansa.

Some nights Margaery had to invite her cousins or use someone else in place of Sansa to dismiss the whispers that ran around the court. Those nights were necessary, Sansa knew, but they were still the worst. She was lonely and fretful on those nights, afraid that something would happen and they would be separated forever. Sansa had her soulmate and she never wanted to let her go.

Those were the golden days of their relationship, when nothing could go wrong. They were in a state of suspended bliss, and no one could break it.

One night, Sansa nearly broke down in tears. She managed not to, but Margaery saw it on her face.

"My love, whatever is the matter?" She inquired in a concerned tone.

"You can't marry Joffrey, Margaery! He's a monster! You can't, he'll ruin you! You can't, you can't, _you can't_ ," Sansa exclaimed as she began to sob. Margaery wrapped her in her arms as the redhead kept muttering the statement.

"Don't worry, my love. I have it all planned out. Loras will protect me," Margaery confidently assured her, and Sansa wanted to scream that she's wrong, that she'll never be safe married to _him_. But she doesn't, she just continued to cry, though admittedly not as hard as before. "Besides, once I'm queen, I can convince him to let you visit Highgarden."

Sansa sniffled and gave her a smile still tinged with worry. "But it won't be the same if you're not there, surely," she commented and Margaery flashed her a thoughtful smile.

"No, it won't be. But you can marry Willas there, which you can't do here." Sansa gasped and looked up in shock at her soulmate.

"But _you're_ my soulmate, Margaery, not Willas," Sansa pointed out, cringing at the obviousness of the statement. She meant every word of it, though. _Margaery_ was the person she intended to spend the rest of her life with, not her brother.

Margaery responded, "You'll have to marry eventually, Sansa. It should be to someone kind, and someone who won't mind if you spend some extra time with the queen when she visits."

"Do you really think he won't care?" Sansa asked curiously. She always thought that a husband would be disgusted with her and Margaery's relationship, and it would never work out. That's why she didn't often entertain thoughts of marriage anymore. Margaery was right, however; she would have to marry eventually, even if she didn't want to.

"I know my brother," Margaery responded carefully and pressed a kiss to Sansa's forehead. Everything felt right again.

Sansa finally gathered enough courage to tell Dontos, the only other person close to being a friend, that the escape plan they planned wasn't necessary any longer. Instead of being overjoyed or apathetic like she imagined, he was distressed. She finally broke and told him why, but it only made him more upset. Finally, Sansa left him, but she couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something horrible was about to happen.

That was when the golden days ended.

Sansa was forced to marry Tyrion Lannister. It was absolutely awful. He belonged to the family that murdered her family. She didn't want this, had never wanted this. She wanted Highgarden, and Willas, and _Margaery_.

Any inkling of faith Sansa had left was crushed that day.

She soon started up her meetings with Dontos again, resolved to get out and figure things out then.

Sansa's time with Margaery was severely lowered. She could only go on occasional excursions together, and if they wanted to do anything they did in bed it had to be with the utmost secrecy. Sansa could feel Margaery drifting away as the wedding drew closer, and she wanted to pull her back in. Sansa wanted their nights again, even the ones when she was alone, because she at least she knew she had Margaery then.

The wedding was beautiful, as everything Margaery was involved with was. Nonetheless, Sansa felt anxiety gnawing at her stomach throughout the ceremony, afraid of what her soulmate was getting into.

The festivities afterward were less beautiful and more painful. It was clear that everything had been expensive, and while the scenery was wonderful, the anxiety growing within Sansa didn't allow her to enjoy it.

Joffrey had then begun his torture. That stupid dwarf show, Sansa decided, was the origin of her dread. It ridiculed her brother horrendously, and she nearly began to cry. She didn't, though. She would be strong.

Sansa sneaked a look at her husband. Tyrion was clearly upset, and she understood it. At his dwarf show wasn't only ridiculing the contenders for the throne, but him. _It must be just as awful for him_ , she thought.

After that, the business with the wine had come up. Sansa bit her lip as her husband was humiliated in front of the whole court. As a show of courtesy and sympathy, she picked up the cup when it rolled near her and silently gave it to Tyrion.

Everything had happened so fast, in hindsight. Before Sansa knew what was happening, Joffrey was on the ground and his face was turning purple.

Sansa, knowing that this was her cue, escaped the room in all the chaos, heading to the place where she had hid her things. As she left, she felt a pang of sadness. She was abandoning her soulmate, her true love.

 _It'll be alright_ , Sansa reassured herself. _I'll find a way to annul my marriage to Tyrion, and then I'll marry Willas and all our plans will fall into place_.

It didn't convince her in the slightest, but what other choice did she have?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thank you again for your support last chapter. The next chapter will be out soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa hadn't imagined that her escape from King's Landing would be bring her to the Gates of the Moon and betrothed to a man who was not Willas Tyrell. And of course, she wasn't there. _Alayne_ was, and Alayne had never had any dreams of Tyrells and Highgarden. That was a different girl, one who's dreams came flooding back at the news of Queen Margaery's trial.

"What do you think the outcome of the trial will be?" Alayne asked her friend, Myranda, nervously, afraid of her soulmate's future. _No_ , she reminded herself gently. _A different girl's soulmate_. It was easy to forget, though, and maybe it was because the statement never _felt_ true.

"The little queen's?" Alayne nodded in affirmation, and Myranda paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't know. There's not a whole lot of evidence, from what I hear, but the evidence that is there is somewhat convincing. It doesn't particularly matter for Margaery, though, as it will end up badly either way."

"How do you figure?" Alayne inquired curiously. Myranda was the most politically minded of her friends, and Alayne trusted that her guess would be the most likely to come true. The only person who would be better at predicting would be her father, but Alayne figured this was not a question to ask him.

"Even if she is proven innocent of any crime, the rumors will follow her for the rest of her life, now that they have been planted. And if she's found guilty... well, you know the punishment for treason as well as I do," Myranda explained. _More so_ , Alayne thought, but that had been a girl younger than her, who knew the punishment for treason so intimately.

Alayne felt anxiety growing within her. She knew a girl once, who knew Margaery wasn't a maid... but did it even count if it wasn't with a man? She found herself clutching to that one question like it was her lifeline, desperately hoping the answer was a resounding no.

Alayne's days passed without any more incident of note. She suffered through her interactions with Harry, which were sometimes fun but usually not, and adored her friends, for she had been so long without any. Her conversations with her father were more interesting than her conversations with anyone else, even if they did always make her feel so inappropriate. She learned many things from those conversations, and was determined to remember it all, so she could use it as a weapon if she had too. Though he was her father, Alayne never considered him completely trustworthy.

The only thing different from before was the constant anxiety settled within her.

It was a few months after news of Margaery's trial arrived at the Vale when Alayne awoke one night to a stinging pain in her ankle. It took her a minute to gather her senses, but once she did, she gasped, immediately recognizing the pain.  _That's not possible_ , Alayne thought, shocked. The pain was unforgettable, however, and it was the same pain she felt seven years ago.

When Alayne found a candle and lit it in a hurry, she found the results on her ankle in favor with those of her memory. The lines of her soulmate mark had straightened out, so they were straight not wavy, and they now connected with the outer circle.

When Alayne was younger, she had been someone who considered herself an expert on soulmates. She had read every source, studied every song, and listened to every story. She had learned even the most obscure of facts, but nothing has ever suggested that your mark was supposed to change, even if your soulmate had died.

 _Oh, Seven above, Margaery_ , Alayne thought suddenly. Her anxiety skyrocketed, images of what could have happened swirling through her head.

 _I'm sure everything's just fine,_ Alayne tried to comfort herself. _I'm sure this is just a very odd dream_. She decided it was just that and blew the candle out, climbing back into bed. It took her forever to fall asleep again.

A raven flew in a few days later, and it held the news Alayne had been dreading. _Queen Margaery Tyrell has been found guilty of adultery and treason_ , it read, _and has lost her head for her horrendous crimes_.

Alayne didn't cry when she heard the news. Why would she? _She_ hadn't known Margaery, and had no association to the Tyrells. Alayne's day continued as normal as possible. She talked with Myranda and Mya and sat with Harry at dinner, and no conversation was unusual in the slightest.

When she retired for the night, her skin finally slipped off and Sansa cried for hours, lost in her memories of their golden days and devastated about what could have been. She cried over Margaery's soft promises, swiftly executed with her soulmate. All of a sudden, it didn't matter that she wasn't marrying Willas, not when she wouldn't get Margaery as well.

 _I loved her,_ Sansa thought, I truly did. She had never realized it completely, had never come to terms with the fact. She had never told Margaery. _If I could do anything to get her back long enough to tell her, by the old gods and the new, I swear I would_. Sansa didn't doubt herself, didn't doubt that she would do anything if getting to see her beloved one last time to whisper those words was possible.

It wasn't though, and it made Sansa want to scream. She wanted to kick and run and break something. She wanted to do what she had never allowed herself to do before. She wanted to let the whole world know her rage.

 _Everyone has left me_ , Sansa thought bitterly. _Father, Mother, Robb, Bran, Rickon all dead. Arya is probably dead as well, else news would have come up of her. And now Margaery. What else is left for me here?_

And she remembered. In her grief, she had forgotten that her mark had changed. There was still the new mark, the mark that had replaced the one that had matched Margaery's. Sansa had no idea what it meant, no idea if it meant that there was another soulmate out there for her. But it could mean that, and she resolved that she wouldn't allow that possibility to rest. 

Sansa threw herself into research about soulmate marks instead of fixating on her sadness. She scoured books and legends and even listened to all the songs, frequently denying the company of her friends and Harry in favor of her research. It consumed her, became her entire life. Sansa exhausted all sources, and yet she couldn't find one reference to getting a new one once your soulmate died.

It confused her, made her feel isolated. Sansa felt like an oddity, someone who stuck out too far. She made sure that her soulmate mark was completely covered at all times from then on out, even if she was sure that no one had seen it before it had changed. She couldn't take chances, not with something this big and unusual.

Margaery's death had opened her eyes - Sansa couldn't remain as she did, because this life was not hers. She wasn't the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish, she was a Stark of Winterfell, the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark. She was done pretending. Sansa knew that life was fleeting, and she couldn't spend hers hiding herself. Even though she had to remain Alayne on the outside, she slowly took Sansa back within. She didn't suppress her memories, didn't wave them away with the thought _that was another girl._ She watched and waited, gathering information that she could one day weaponize.

And she was praying that day would come soon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hoped you enjoyed! This was by far the hardest chapter to write. This was my first time writing a grieving character, so I hope I've captured Sansa's grief. realistically.
> 
> I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for the support on the last chapter. Every kudo and comment reminds me that people are enjoying what I write. You guys are a great source of both motivation and inspiration, so thank you!


	4. Chapter Four

Sansa only happens to see the mark by accident. A gust of wind had come through the window when she was walking into the room, and her dress had flown up, revealing it.

 _It only looks similar_ , Sansa told herself. _Her mark does not match the one on your ankle_. Sansa wanted to believe that itwas the truth... But she also wanted to believe that it wasn't. Sansa had waited years to find another soulmate, giving up sometime after the death of her husband, Lord Harold Hardying. She wanted to believe that there was someone out there for her. _I don't need that reassurance any longer. I have someone, three someones,_ Sansa reminded herself.

Sansa looked to her left, where her brother King Brandon sat. His eyes were focused on the dragon queen's party. He was so much more intense and quiet from when Sansa had left Winterfell. He'd seen horrors in his time beyond the Wall, but he hadn't let them break him, just like the loss of his legs hadn't.

To his right was King Rickon, the youngest of her younger siblings. He was only ten, but rowdy all the same. He had been young when his family had left him, and his confusion had bred anger. His time on Skagos had served to nurture his anger, but his siblings always managed to reel him back, a feat only Osha had managed. She was dead now, though, lost because of the War. Rickon had been distraught when he heard the news, and only Bran's return to Winterfell a couple months later calmed him down completely.

And finally there was Queen Arya, sitting to Sansa's right. Sansa had always had a rough relationship with her little sister, and their reunion had been shaky. The echoes of their past remained in each of their conversations, but they managed to get along fine when it was required.

Together, the four ruled Winterfell, each equal to the other, but with their own strengths and weaknesses. It made for a strong system, one that would surely remain unchallenged for the years to come. 

Before them stood Queen Daenerys, with her party. She'd brought with her just two men, one that Sansa recognized as Ser Barristan Selmy, the man she met so long ago, and a dark-skinned man in light attire.

The dragon queen was wearing a blood red dress with loose skirts, and wrapped around her shoulders was a black cape. She wasn't wearing boots as most did in the North, but an odd cross between boots and sandals. They only covered her feet, not her ankle, and were rather unsuitable for the North. 

"Welcome to Winterfell, Queen Daenerys," Bran began just as they had rehearsed.

"You were a vital part of winning the War and for that you shall always be welcomed here," Sansa said next, her eyes carefully trained on the other woman's face.

"Your words are sweet, but surely you must know my intentions," Daenerys spoke, leaving no room for misinterpretation. She was here to conquer the North, nothing less.

"The North will never fall, not again," Rickon stated. Sansa could pick out the underlying anger in his tone and almost flinched. This was not on track to end well, but then again, it had never been.

"I'm not suggesting it will," Daenerys said. "A surrender is not a fall."

"And what makes you think we will surrender?" Arya inquired.

"You have no other choice. My dragons-" Arya laughed.

"There is always a choice, and we shall do what's best for our people. The Targaryens, nay, _the South_ has never been what's best, and I doubt it will be now," she stated firmly. Her voice was cool, her stare intense. Sansa didn't envy the dragon queen, though she seemed unaffected.

"My dragons," she continued as if there had been no interruption, "will burn the North otherwise. There is a forest nearby, no? Wood burns rather easily."

Sansa noted the look of anger on Rickon's face and before he could say anything, said, "And it seems you need us. You'll never rule the North without a complaint Stark. The Boltons proved that well enough."

"My sister is right," Bran said. "Besides, you know the tales as well as we know the tales of you. King Rickon learned the most intriguing things in Skagos, Queen Arya has her fierce wolf army and the Brotherhood without Banners, and Queen Sansa has the Vale wrapped around her finger. And I myself am a warg, the most powerful in all the land. There is none like me."

"You need us," Rickon repeated smugly.

"Perhaps I do," Daenerys stated. "Perhaps I don't." And with that she turned and left the room, not saying anything else.

Margaery had soft lips and sweet words. She had been a friend, then a lover. She was everything Sansa had dreamed of in a soulmate.

Daenerys's lips had looked like they were on fire and her words had been cold and unyielding. She was an enemy, another queen who wanted the North for herself. She was totally unexpected, someone Sansa had never dreamed of meeting.

It seemed odd that they were both her soulmates.

Later that night, Sansa wrote a quick note and handed it to a servant. She instructed him to take it to the dragon queen, who was in another part of the castle.

After that she dressed in a grey dress, with white lace direwolves around the hem. She skipped stockings and put on loose boots she could slip on and off, then covered herself in a white cloak while heading to her destination.

Sansa sat in the room, and slid her boots off. She hid her feet under the table, and waited. It seemed to take forever until the dragon queen arrived.

"You came," Sansa stated softly.

"I thought it may have been important," Daenerys replied.

Sansa quirked an eyebrow. "This could have been an ambush."

Daenerys stared at her for a moment. "You don't seem the type." Sansa remembered the Red Wedding and swallowed. Daenerys must have heard of it. "What _is_ this about?"

Sansa didn't say a word. She stood and sat on the table, and hiked up her skirt. She twisted her right ankle, exposing the mark she had hid so long. It reminded her of a time when she was nine, and she swallowed hard, willing the memories away.

It wasn't so hard when Sansa saw Daenery's look of shock, and realized that she couldn't live without her.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! It ended up being a lot harder than I thought it'd be. So many things I had planned out ended up not working. Your comments encouraged me and kept me going, and I'm glad for that. Anyway, the next chapter shouldn't take as long, but I'm also in school again, so it might take longer than I hope it does.


	5. Epilogue

_My dearest love,_

_So much time has passed since I have seen you last. The years have not been kind to me. My face is covered in wrinkles, my hair has faded to a dirty grey, and my once sparkling eyes are now said to be filled with sadness and pain. I'm sure that you have kept your beauty, your looks as perfect as I saw you last. Your beauty always seemed less rooted in your youth and vibrancy, and more in your general state of personality._

_The years have been hardened me as well, I fear. I have suffered many tragedies. Bran, Rickon, Arya - all have died. Before I even met you I had thought Jon and myself the only ones left, and now even he has died, attached to the damn ruins of that Wall more than he was attached to the place of his childhood._

_My time is coming to an end as well. I can feel it in my bones. As a result, I've found myself reminiscing upon the past._

_I love thinking of all the times you flew to Winterfell on the back of Drogon, knowing and gracefully accepting the fact that I could never face King's Landing again (your compassion and kindness was the thing I loved most about you). You always visited on the guise of inter-kingdom relations, which may not have an exact lie, though certainly everyone would wonder why you always visited here, but my siblings and I never visited you. Another subject of curiously had to be why you visited so frequently, seeing as the relations were as great as they were._

_Indeed, only my siblings and I knew why you truly visited, along with a few of your trusted advisors. You visited, of course, for the nights spent under the sheets together, kissing and talking and singing to one another. We would laugh and scream (in the best sense of the word) and simply hold each other._

_My favorite memory is the time a story began to circulate around Winterfell. "The dragon queen of the south," they'd whisper, "had someone executing for suggesting she try to take the North."_

_I didn't believe it at first, or rather I didn't want to. Your understanding, your compassion, as I mentioned previously, was the thing I loved most about you. You couldn't have done something so harsh. A harsh no, perhaps imprisonment, but execution? That wasn't you._

_It wasn't so simple, of course. The man plotting wasn't just a man. His name came out soon and after all those years, it still managed to make me shudder - Petyr Baelish._

_I had told you everything he'd done, to my family and myself. You'd been furious, but after I found out the truth about my father's execution and my old friend, Jeyne Poole, he disappeared without a word. Neither of us could extract vengeance._

_Maybe Petyr Baelish wasn't quite so smart as he'd used to be, or maybe he wasn't ever that smart. There were already rumors of our relationship spreading around, but he still had introduced himself to you and set out a plan to take the North. You were planning on imprisoning anyway, but then you found out he was spreading nasty rumors about the loss of my maidenhead and you had him executed almost instantly._

_When you came to Winterfell next, you explained everything and I kissed you on the spot. It was something so entirely you - something that was absolutely stunning. And you did it for me. I was still struggling with my sense of self, still struggling to realize many people loved me. And there you were, killing someone for what they did to me. In retrospect, it sounds a bit of an overreaction, but it's still romantic to me._

_There are so many more things I could write here, but I think I'll see you soon anyways, and then we can reminisce for eternity._

_I love you forever and ever,_

_Sansa_

An old woman sealed the letter qand stood, her bones aching. She walked over to the fire and tossed it in.

Despite the pain it caused in her body, Sansa leaned over in bed before she went to sleep. She trailed her fingers over the familiar mark on her ankle. Though many years had passed since she brought her fingers to it, she knew the pattern well. How could she forget it, when it briefly brought her fear and forever after brought her so much joy? 

When she awoke, Sansa felt revived and young again. She looked down and saw that her skin was smooth, not a wrinkle in sight. She smiled, and pulled her hair in front of her face. It was as bright as dragon flame. Sansa's laugh twinkled as she took a hop forward and spun around. She spun and leaped and skipped. Her body hadn't moved so freely in years.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

Sansa stopped and turned to the source of the question. Standing there was a woman with purple eyes whose smile was pure joy.

After a moment, Sansa closed the distance between them, threading her fingers between her soulmate's hands. She kissed her slowly, sensually, like she hadn't done in the past twelve years. They broke apart, and Sansa put her forehead on Daenery's. "This is Heaven, isn't it?" She whispered. It couldn't be anything else.

"Yes," Daenerys answered as she pulled apart. She grasped Sansa's hand and began to pull her along. "Now come see the others," she insisted. "They'll complain about how selfish I am, keeping you to myself when they too have waited so long."

Names flooded through her head, names of those she had longed to see over the years. _Margaery. Arya. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Mother. Father. Lady._

_I'm finally home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Let me tell you guys that writing this has been an amazing experience. Thought this is my first ASOIAF multi-chapter fic, I've written multi-chapter fics for other fandoms but (and I'm a little embarrassed to admit this) I never finished them. Therefore, this is the first multi-chapter fic I've finished, and let me tell you, it's such an amazing feeling of accomplishment.
> 
> I couldn't have finished this story without you guys. Your kudos and comments have encouraged me to keep on writing when I wanted to just leave it alone, and to post even when I was unsure of myself. I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.


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